Friday Photo - The Ox and the Movie Star
This photograph is available on my website.
Travelers on Atlantic Boulevard now cross the San Pablo River (a.k.a. The Ditch) from Jacksonville to Atlantic Beach by way of a high rise bridge, but years ago there was a much lower bridge. Folks reached the old bridge by a causeway and a series of small bridges over the marsh. When the old bridge was removed, the causeway and small bridges were left in place for fishermen, and for canoeists and kayakers to launch their boats.
The old causeway has very little traffic and makes an excellent place for photography. One fall afternoon, I drove over to try my luck. On a spit of land between the river and one of its tributaries, old wooden buildings sat in various states of disrepair. The paint on the south wall of one building had been devastated by the sun and wind. The patterns of the peeling paint looked alluring, but nailed to wall was a large “No Trespassing” sign.
A couple of sailboats were anchored in a cove, but the wind and tide had turned them so that their uninteresting aft ends pointed towards the shore.
I walked along the road and saw that the ditch alongside was filled with trash, old building materials, and even a kitchen sink. But nothing worth photographing.
I walked back to the cove, and set up my camera there. I could see that I had a good landscape scene, but to be really good, I needed the wind to change direction and blow one of the sailboats around so that it’s side faced me. I was under the dark cloth focusing when I sensed something behind me. I pulled the cloth off my head and turned around.
“That sure is a big camera,” a small, smiling man said to me. He looked about 65 and was dressed in a khaki shirt, khaki shorts, a khaki baseball cap and deck shoes. Blue.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s an 8×10 view camera. There aren’t many of us crazy enough to carry such a camera anymore.”
“That’s my boat out there, you’re trying to take a picture of. The Ox.”
I looked more closely. It was a two-masted sailing ship of a design I had not seen before. I had a blunt bow as well as stern. “What’s the design called?”
“I built it myself. It’s built like that to haul cargo, and I’m headed to the Caribbean to do just that – haul cargo from island to island.”
I didn’t ask what cargo. “Have you built other boats before?”
“Oh, yes, I lived in Los Angeles and built several boats. In fact, I built one that my daughter and I sailed from California to Australia all by ourselves. I was hoping to get some more acting jobs down under.”
“You were an actor.”
“Oh, yes. I was pretty good on a horse, so I was in a lot of the old cowboy movies and TV shows. I was usually an un-credited extra, but I got a few speaking roles. I had a pretty good time until the cowboy shows became unpopular.”
I couldn’t imagine this man on a horse, but he did look like a sailor. “How long will you be here? I might come back and try to get a shot of your boat when the wind blows it around.”
“I’ll be here a week or so, depending on weather. My name’s Will Corry, by the way.”
I introduced myself and wrote down his name. The sun was setting, and the wind finally changed a little. I made an exposure in the failing light.
I developed my film and realized the photo was a little better than I had thought. But I wanted a better one.
A few days later, I logged onto The Internet Movie Database and looked up Mr. Corry. There he was – several episodes of “Have Gun, Will Travel”, “Gunsmoke”, and “The Kraft Suspense Theater.” He had reprised his Kraft role in the movie “The Strategy of Terror,” starring Hugh O’Brien and Barbara Rush. He also had a small role in “Wild In The Country,” starring Elvis, Hope Lange and Tuesday Weld.
And there was more. He had written an episode of “Gunsmoke” and also the movie “Two-Lane Blacktop,” which starred James Taylor and Warren Oates. A further search on Google revealed that he had also written a book, “The Voyage of the Sea Lion.” It was the story of his cruise from California to Australia with his daughter and her puppy. When they set sail, the daughter was only two-years old.
“I’m an idiot,” I thought to myself for the umpteenth time. “Will Corry was the most interesting thing you saw that day.” I packed up the camera and headed back to Atlantic Boulevard intending to take Mr. Corry’s photo with his ship in the background.
The Ox was gone. I’ve driven past the area hundreds of times since, and haven’t seen the strange little ship again. It was an important lesson for someone who usually photographs sticks and stones and bolts sticking out of concrete. Sometimes one should think about photographing people.